Last Monday Pierre called me at the office at five to five with the request that I get myself home as soon as possible.
"We're having a picnic supper in the boat," says he. "It'll be our last chance this year."
Last Monday was a stunner in Yellowknife. Sunny skies, 24 degrees. The weather's been marginal this summer, and a lot of people were griping about the fact that our entire summer seems to have occurred on a Monday in September, when everyone was back at work.
So shortly after five I hopped on my pink mountain bike and coasted down the Franklin Avenue hill to the Old Town. Turns out Pierre was serious about getting into the boat. I'm usually in charge of the cooler, but while I was wandering around, checking my e-mail and putting my hair in a ponytail, he got everything packed and was sitting in the car in the driveway ready to go while I was still looking for my ball cap.
It was, indeed, a lovely evening on the water. We went about 15 minutes out on Yellowknife Bay, then puttered around some little islands while we dined on snack food. The lake was absolutely calm; it was so warm I was wearing a tank top. We waited until the sun was almost down, and then headed back to town.
Fall hit the following day; it's been cold and rainy ever since.